A boy and his dog
by seriousish
Summary: When he was thirteen, Bucky's dog had puppies. She was a purebred and Bucky's mom could get good prices for them, but Bucky insisted Steve get one.


When Bucky was thirteen, the family dog had puppies. She was a purebred and Bucky's mom could get good prices for them, but Bucky insisted Steve get one. Steve was his best friend, but he couldn't even afford a razor to shave off the first three hairs on his chin. Already he was working ten hours a day as a newsie. Bucky knew Steve didn't mind hard work, but there were only so many days he could get. When he wasn't working, Steve had nothing. Bucky thought Steve would get along with something that gave as much as a puppy. It was the next best thing to a girl.

Mrs. Barnes let Steve into their apartment with suspicion in her eyes. When Steve knelt down next to Bucky's dog and whispered to her soothingly as her puppies nursed, she said "You can have _one._ The rest are spoken for."

"Thanks, Mrs. Barnes." Even at that age, Steve was astute. He looked past the puppies, full and tired, nuzzling at his feet, to see the little white bundle in the corner. "Why isn't he nursing?"

"That's the runt of the litter. He's not strong enough to get his fill."

Steve reached carefully for him, picking the puppy up. It fit in one hand. "Do you have a baby bottle?" When Mrs. Barnes nodded, he said "I'll take it. And him."

"Steve," Bucky said slowly, hating having to disillusion his friend again. "The runt of the litter almost never makes it."

"Almost isn't never." Weary as it was, the puppy licked at his thumb. Steve scratched at its head. "He'll make it. Just needs a chance." 

* * *

><p>Steve couldn't get work that week. More days in the soup line, more layers chipped off his pride, more dips into his savings to bring back food for his mom. He didn't mind. He had Anthony.<p>

After a few days of being bottle-fed, Anthony started walking around. Then he started running. The butcher let Steve have bones and fat to feed him. And the bed, small as it was, was big enough for Steve and Anthony.

Dropping by the butcher's every day, Steve found a job cleaning up after hours. Among other things, he could afford dog food. 

* * *

><p>After Steve's mother died, the apartment was a lot emptier. He came home from the funeral, his rented suit hanging off him like seaweed on a waterlogged corpse, and just stood there. Anthony planted himself by Steve, tail whapping against the floor happily, licking his hand. After a minute, Steve moved, changing the sheets on his mother's bed.<p>

It had just enough room for a man and a big, friendly dog. 

* * *

><p>Mrs. Barnes took care of Anthony when Steve went to boot camp. She didn't love the big galoot, always dashing through the tiny apartment, tongue wagging whenever she mentioned food. The puppy she'd let Bucky keep had at least been brought up with some discipline. Shame about the kidney failure. At least it had been painless.<p>

She did care for Steve. As little as he was, he had a way of keeping Bucky on the straight and narrow. Not shooting pool or smoking cigarettes, but doing a hard day's work for a cool day's pay.

She knew Bucky had to do his duty, had to fight, but she'd thought at least she could hold onto Steve. He needed some mothering, the state he was in. Yet the Army had taken him anyway, leaving her neighborhood quiet, no swaggering boys for the girls to smile at, no men shouting at the radio when the game was on. They couldn't at least have left her Steve.

When she saw on the couch and watched her stories, Anthony got up beside her and laid his head on her knee, like Bucky had when he was little. As much as she hated the big lug on the furniture, she put up with it. Scratched behind his ears, listened to his leg kick. Steve would come home and take Anthony off her hands soon. He'd come back, just like Bucky. 

* * *

><p>Anthony didn't know what to make of it when the big man came through the door. Despite the obvious strength, he moved like he was weighted down. Anthony barked, letting everyone on the block know there was an intruder. The big man smiled and laughed. "It's <em>me<em>, Anthony."

Assuaged by his name, Anthony crept up, maintaining a low growl, sniffing studiously. When he caught Steve's scent, he jumped.

Anthony wasn't big enough to knock Steve for a loop, not anymore, but the big man let himself be carried to the ground. It was the only way he was short enough for Anthony to lick his face. 

* * *

><p>Rank had its privileges, even for Captain America. Steve took Anthony with him, touring the states, shooting film reels. He didn't have as much time to play with Anthony as he'd used to. So much of his time was spent in rehearsals, or dinners, or signing autographs, or visiting manufacturing plants. But at the end of the day, no matter how tired he was, Steve found time to take Anthony for a walk.<p>

The hotel beds were rarely big enough for the juggernaut Steve had become to share, but Anthony was happy to sleep at his master's feet, ready for a friendly pat first thing in the morning. 

* * *

><p>One day, Steve had time to take Anthony for a walk in the crisp mid-day sun. They went for a nice run, Steve slowing down so Anthony could keep pace, and collapsed in the shade of a burger joint's canopy. Steve bought a meal and threw half the fries to Anthony.<p>

They walked back slow, Anthony letting Steve take the lead. His alpha dog.

"I'm going to Europe for a bit, Anthony," Steve said when they got back, rubbing the dog's belly. "Gonna entertain our troops overseas, get some morale up. No dogs allowed."

Anthony wagged his tail, not caring, not understanding.

Steve gave him a few pats. "I'll be back soon. You just be good for Mrs. Barnes, okay?" 

* * *

><p>Anthony liked Mrs. Barnes. She kept him well-fed and let him lick her plates before she put them in the dishwasher and walked him in the evenings, through the quiet street, around the houses that had been emptied by the war. He missed his master. He thought maybe his master looked different again. Whenever he was walked, he sniffed at each stranger, but never caught the scent. <p>

* * *

><p>It took some time for Mrs. Barnes to come around to the idea that Anthony, a canine, actually missed Steve, but there was no arguing with the way he sat at the door, waiting patiently, tail thudding a metronome beat into the floor with anticipation. The dog was never less than attentive to her once she was noticed, but when she wasn't there… the door. The wait.<p>

Finally, she could stand it no more.

"Anthony," she said, the dog doing a quick 180 from the door in case she had food. "There's something we should talk about."

Anthony padded over to her. She gave his head a sound petting. "You see, Steve won't be resuming his tour. Somehow, he and James have landed themselves in trouble together, as usual. It's all very hush-hush, but a mother knows. Those two are in danger, giving the Nazis whatfor. Can't say I blame them. So we'll just have to wait. They'll be a while."

Anthony rolled over, offering his belly. Mrs. Barnes scratched it. More fool her, expecting the dumb mutt to listen. 

* * *

><p>Anthony only knew something was wrong when Mrs. Barnes wouldn't get out of bed. She kept her composure until then, the letter about her son, such a small and tiny piece of paper, and then the newspapers, big and blaring, unspooling with more and more news of the search for Captain America. They were lost together, James and Steve… they'd finally proven to be inseparable.<p>

But waking up one morning to an empty apartment, an apartment that would never be filled, never have grandkids or wives or war buddies, was the straw that broke Mrs. Barnes' back. She could face a world without her only son and the closest thing he'd had to a brother. Just not an apartment.

And no matter how Anthony scratched at the bedroom door, she wouldn't let him in. 

* * *

><p>Mrs. Barnes ventured forth a little. The toilet was on the other side of the apartment, after all. She took time to feed Anthony, but not to walk him. For that, she just spread some newspapers out. They tended to be about how Captain America hadn't been found anyway.<p>

After a wheel of Anthony despairing of ever setting paw on pavement again, the intercom buzzed. And for some reason, Mrs. Barnes answered it.

The woman smelled of Steve. Just a little, enough to make Anthony's ears perked up. He jumped up on her and she held her own, burying her hands in his fur coat, slapping him soundly on the back before he got down.

"Mrs. Barnes?" she said, nudging Anthony with her foot to send him on his way. The dog shuffled into the living room, plopping down in the floor to watch her.

All Mrs. Barnes did was nod as her name being spoken.

"Peggy Carter, British Intelligence," the woman said in crisp introduction. "I worked with your son, as well as Captain Rogers."

Mrs. Barnes turned around and, as if lost, wandered into the living room. She sat down on the couch. Anthony gave his tail a shake, happy to have her close.

"I'm aware you received a letter from the State Department," Peggy said, not to be deterred. She closed the door behind her, then stepped into the living room, standing before Mrs. Barnes as prim as a soldier awaiting inspection. "So I apologize if this seems redundant. But there are things that have been classified that I think you should know."

Peggy had meant to be circumspect, only to reveal the surface details of James's bravery. It hurt her too, remembering the losses. But when she saw how Mrs. Barnes lit up, fixing Peggy with her attention like she was looking out from some far dark place… Peggy told her everything. HYDRA. The train. Zola. Schmidt. The Tesseract. Steve.

Mrs. Barnes listened all the way through, Anthony laying beside her, her hand traveling over his back in brisk strokes. When Peggy was gone, she finally took advantage of Mrs. Barnes' offer to sit. She planted herself in the loveseat and rolled her toes inside her shoes.

"I appreciate you coming out here and I appreciate you telling me this," Mrs. Barnes said, her hand now settled on Anthony, immersed in his fur. "But my boys are gone. It makes no difference to me whether they died heroes or cowards; I'd have loved them all the same. But thanks again for trying to put an old woman's heart back together."

"Yes, Mrs. Barnes." Peggy stood again. Suddenly, she would be more comfortable walking out than sitting down.

Anthony ran over, jumping up again for more petting.

"Is this Captain Rogers' dog?"

"Yes. Anthony."

Peggy nodded. Scratched Anthony behind the ears. "He reminded me of Steve for a moment there. So friendly, so much energy… so full of life. Good day, Mrs. Barnes." 

* * *

><p>Anthony ended up an old dog, as all dogs had to. He was too old to run after new smells on the streets of Brooklyn and Mrs. Barnes was too old to keep up with them. They walked around the block, saying hello to old friends and old friends' children, before going back to their apartment. So much of the world was new and frightening, and their company was warm and comforting.<p>

Mrs. Barnes was out when the door swung open. Some old vestige of guard dog grew in Anthony, prompting a weary growl and a tired bark.

"Easy, boy. Easy. It's just me."

Anthony's tail hadn't wagged so much in years. He put all his energy into running across the apartment, and Steve got down on one knee to pet the dog so Anthony wouldn't have to jump up.

"Settle down, pup. You'll give yourself a heart attack." Anthony flopped down on his back and Steve rubbed his belly. "I missed you too, boy. Wanna guess where I've been? The future. No jetpacks or flying cars, unfortunately, but they've still got wet dog food. Anyway, some old nut came here to alter the timeline, and I was the natural choice to go back and stop him. And now everything's as it should be. Everything's as it has to be."

Anthony sensed his master's distress. He jumped up and licked Steve's face. Steve smiled despite himself. "I can't stay long. No one can know I'm here, even. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Anthony barked.

"Good boy. You're such a good boy. Here. I figure a futuristic chew-toy won't change the timeline too much." Reaching into his pocket, Steve tossed down a plastic bone. Anthony jawed it amicably as Steve got up and wandered the old familiar rooms—so much smaller now than he remembered, so dusty and forgotten. He automatically started to tidy up a little, a habit from the days when he and Bucky were the ones who made the mess, but gave up.

"Peggy's good. Found a nice man, had some nice kids. You should see how happy she is… good thing, too. Otherwise I'd be tempted to stay." The melancholy of his voice made Anthony stare, looking for what was distressing his master, even as he tried to crack the stubborn bone.

Opening the hall closet, Steve rooted around. Bucky's clothes were still there, from the bundle of winter clothes he'd worn as a kid to the fedora he'd been so proud of in high school. Steve would've thought Mrs. Barnes would have given them away, but he could understand hanging onto them. There was a reason Steve used a compass with a picture in it instead of an iPhone app.

"Even ol' Howie had a kid. Tony. Lemme tell you, pooch, it's a good thing you'll be out of here before that one grows up. Come to think of it, I told Howard about you. You don't think—okay, I'm going to hold this over him a while."

With one last gnaw, Anthony abandoned the chew-toy to run up to Steve, arriving just as Steve came up with a leash.

"I've got an hour before they can bring me back. Wanna go for a walk, boy?"


End file.
